Chapter 8

Author's Note: Hey everyone! Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, as usual! I'd like to start by devoting this chapter as always to my beta-reader, Brittni the Omnipotent, and Brian, aka Spike Spiegal, yay!   So first off, to my great reviewers-

            Margleit- Thanks for reviewing! Haha, you find out a little later about Malfoy and Snapey's reaction to everything. It's coming soon! Also, thanks for the name of the statue; Hermione probably should have known that name, shouldn't she? *writes it down* Enjoy!

            CalorSolChica- Thank you so much for the review, I love good reviews! As to the necklaces, I don't really know what they mean either, so you'll just have to be on the same level of knowledge as the three who have them. Well, except that white is scared, that's all I can say. Keep reading!

            Demiguise- Hahaha! I love that joke! I actually got it from Lemony Snicket, but, anyway, thanks for the review, I love helping Ron out.

            Anyana- Hehe! You're right, of course, in my stories, Hermione never ends up with someone else! Thank you for reviewing, and don't worry too much about Draco, he's my guy. He's just gonna get a little worse, and it's better from there.

            Marron04-Thanks for the review, I agree! Ron and Hermione are meant for each other. Here's the next chapter for you, hope you like it!

            BengalPho- Hey, hey! You said talk to you, so I'm talking to you, I hope you like this chapter as much as the others, old man! Talk to ya later!

            Disclaimer: I'd like to make a very shocking announcement to the audience. It says here, that Evyfleur does not, in fact, own the rights to Harry Potter, and that she greatly appreciates and respects J.K. Rowling, the true author. However, she says, "If it's the last thing I do, Warner Brothers will die." Hmm, curious. ~Evyfleur   

The Misjudged Plan

            The scarlet curtain is pulled back, revealing, yet again, a breakfast table. Draco is in deep discussion with his two friends, Ron and Hermione...

            "Okay, this is what we're going to do," declared Draco, very seriously, over their light breakfast of cinnamon rolls and Earl Gray tea.

            "I know Malfoy Manor inside and out. We'll go in through this entrance here," he indicated with a quill, on a rough sketch of his house. "After we get in, assuming that goes well, we'll walk down to the Meeting Room in the East wing of the house. That's where I'll pretend to talk to my father. Every Wednesday he meets with Crabbe and Goyle to discuss the future of the Dark, er, Voldemort. While they're doing that, we can eavesdrop until they finish. Then, when they are leaving the Meeting Room, you two can stun them. I'll stun my father from behind. We'd better not forget the Polyjuice Potion"

            "You're alright with stunning your dad in the back? Wouldn't that feel a bit…betraying?" Ron questioned. Hermione knew that Ron was thinking that because if he were in the same situation, he'd never be able to do such a thing.

            "Well, um, it's, it's all for the best, isn't it? I'll deal with it."

            "You'll be able to?" Hermione asked cautiously. Draco looked a little nervous.

            "Of course, I'll be fine," he snapped.

            "Okay, okay."

            They put on their cloaks, grabbed their wands, and stepped out the door, briefly saying good-bye to Professor Snape.

            "We'll be back in a few hours," called Ron.

            "Hopefully," muttered Draco, nervously, under his breath.

            Ron and Hermione glanced at each other uncertainly when they heard this. Then they walked through the protective gateway in front of the Professor's house, and dissaparated.

***** 

            They almost immediately apparated to what looked like a huge, steely mountain. It was, in fact, the Malfoy Manor. The light of the windows gleamed icily, and glared at passersby with cold darkness through the intimidating windows. The Manor was a castle in likeness, very tall and made of black stone, with three wings, and a few turrets and towers looking above the rest of the town. If this had been a ghost story, Malfoy Manor would have easily played the role of the haunted house on the cliff. The atmosphere of the home, if it could be called that, gave off a certain foreboding feeling.

            Draco turned to face it with dread in his silver eyes. Ron and Hermione looked rather like idiots. Their mouths were hanging slightly ajar, and their eyes were wide with awe. They quickly realized this, however, and closed their mouths.

            "Well, let's go," Draco said, with more confidence in his voice than in his mind. Hermione cast a charm on her ears and Ron's ears, so that they would be able to hear much better than usual. They approached one of the enormous wing entrances, and tapped on the door very lightly.

            A beautiful woman with platinum blonde hair opened the door slowly. She wasn't wearing the horrible face she had on during the Quidditch World Cup, which Hermione remembered well, but was smiling. Her face was a little wet from tears.

            "Draco, darling!" she cried, hugged him tightly, asking if he'd been alright, and expressing how much she'd missed her little boy. Draco's cheeks were tinged a bit pink at that. When Narcissa had let go of her son, she turned to Ron and Hermione, slightly confused.

            "Mum, this is Ron and Hermione. I need to talk to you. Ron, Hermione, you can leave your coats here, there's a sofa in the room there, you can relax for a bit." He gestured toward an adjacent room. His laid back nature admitted for him that he was happy to be home, and felt more comfortable.

            Hermione was a bit worried, though. "I thought we were supposed to be sneaking," she said to Ron under her breath.

            Ron snickered lightly. "Don't ask me, 'Mione, he's a Malfoy. As a rule, things always have to be easier for Malfoys." He smiled slightly, and she smiled back. "That's true."

            They hung their coats on an expensive-looking, well-crafted, wooden coat rack, and sat down on the formal couch, as Draco and Narcissa left the room to talk in a more private area. Ron scowled at this, as though he was deep in thought.

            "This could be a trap," he said, looking after them. "You know, it happens all the time during chess. You think you have a good strategy going for you, and as soon as you attack, when everything seems to be perfect, the least expected piece will deceive you, and take you out of the game. What do you think, 'Mione? Reckon he's still on our side? He could have been a very good storyteller for Snape."

            Hermione realized Ron was right. It was his house. It would be so easy for him to just…she thought of what he had said to Snape. Did he mean it? He sounded very earnest, loyal, and trustworthy, but then again, she wondered if Wormtail had sounded the same. "I don't know, Ron. The only advice I can give is to keep an eye on his necklace."

            Reflexively, they both looked down at the necklaces. Draco's seemed to be a light blue. Whispers of what he and his mother were saying drifted to their charmed ears from the other room.

            "You have to, Mum, it's the only way…but you know your father would never do that, Draco…I don't care! I have to do this, to keep you safe…I'm only doing this to get away from, from, Him, Draco, you know that I…What?! He's not here, is He?…your father never tells me if…"

           

            Ron and Hermione exchanged desperate glances with each other, before Narcissa strode gracefully into the room where they were, grabbing her jacket, hat, purse, and gloves. Draco followed briskly behind her. They embraced with a strong family love for each other, and Draco kissed his mother on the cheek. They whispered goodbye, and Narcissa stepped out the door, leaving the Malfoy Manor forever.

            "What was-?"

            "I'll explain later, Ron. Let's go," Draco said impatiently, his eyes alive with anxiety and fear. He led them down the hall, quickly, leaving Ron and Hermione to follow him. Hermione was confused. What was that about? Who is Him supposed to be? Why did Narcissa leave? Draco seems so anxious, I hope he's still on our side, she thought.

           

            This wing of the Manor was very homey, actually, Hermione noticed fleetingly. There were beautiful floral designs and decorations in rich, lively colors. Everything looked chic and comfortable, fashionable for witches' tastes. Obviously, this was Narcissa's part of the mansion.

            They then passed into a deep hall that reached far back into the house. Here everything was simplistic and classy; including a few pictures here and there, some wooden desks and bookcases, and earth-toned, leather furniture. It was very sleek. Draco didn't go far into this section, which happened to be his, but moved on to the third wing. It was as dark as the outside had appeared in this part of the Manor. Its colors were severe and bleak at the same time. It had obtrusive furniture, and was colder than where they had been before. But what disturbed Ron and Hermione the most, were that there were many ancient and modern torture devices hanging all over the walls, and sitting on the rotting tables. There were pictures of ghosts, lost souls, and demons hovering along the hallway, looking exceptionally menacing. Those pictures stared frighteningly at them, and some even gestured to stay away from the place they had already trespassed into.

            Voices eerily echoed through the halls, they were travelling from a room down the hall, where Draco finally halted.

            "Ready?" he asked, his face etched with dread.

            "We are, yes. Are you ready, though? Something's wrong." Hermione looked at him, concerned.

            "I'm fine. Nervous…that's all, I'm just nervous." He was bordering on sounding like his old self, the one who was always mean.

            "Okay."

            Draco's necklace was white, pure white. He stepped into the room, gritting his teeth, and Ron and Hermione pressed their ears against the wall to eavesdrop, that was in fact, the motive behind putting spells on their ears.

            Lucius had apparently seen his son, and said, "Wait, Draco. We will let you speak when we are ready. This is more important." He was so cruel to his son. There was some low muttering and whispering made by the people already in the room, and the sound of wine being poured into goblets. There were two small 'thank you's,' but they were quickly quieted again. This silent talking, it seemed, went on for a while, until Lucius spoke loudly enough for Ron and Hermione to hear him again. "Fine. Go ahead."

            They now heard Draco, his voice sounding muffled like the others' voices, but shaky. "Father, friends, m-My…Lord," he said, and paused with what sounded half-awkward, half-reverent. Ron and Hermione clutched the bottles of Polyjuice potion tightly inside of their robes. "I'm honored to see you again," he continued.

            "Draco Malfoy. I'm very interested to know if some rather vile rumors are true of you," a strangely high-pitched voice interrupted. It sounds so cold.

            "What… rumors…would those be, Sir?"

            The harsh, cold, man's voice laughed evilly. "It seems that you have betrayed us, and gone to the side of Dumbledore and the Ministry. Is this true?" His voice had changed abruptly from being amused to being deadly.

            "N-no, Sir! I should hope it isn't! In, in, in fact, Sir, I, I have some, erm, some news." There was a faint sound of scribbling on a piece of paper.

            "Very good," said the Dark Lord. They started to talk in whispers again, and there was the sound of chairs being scraped across the floor. Then the room was silent.

            Ron backed away from the door, his wand held ready. Hermione kept listening, but kept her hand on her wand. She had forgotten her potion in the heat of the moment.

            "'Mione! Get away from there," Ron said hoarsely, looking at her pleadingly. "Do you want to get yourself killed?"

            But Hermione stayed there a second too long. A different door in the hall flew open, and Voldemort (looking rather healthy for what he was; powerful and terrible), along with his now four Death Eaters barged into the corridor.

            Ron threw himself at Hermione, and held her close, shielding her just as Voldemort sent the Cruciatus curse towards her. Everything was a bit slower than usual after that. There was a flash of green light, and Hermione had to watch as her Ron fell to the ancient stone floor in pain. He was silent, though the effects of the curse were obvious, he lay there, writhing and his eyes were wide in shock. 

            She herself immediately started aiming as many hexes and curses as she could toward any of them. Someone said 'Stupefy', and she slumped to the floor, unable to move. Everything went black. She heard a yell, and then nothing. A few minutes later, she started slipping in and out of consciousness, she was being carried somewhere. All faded into nothingness again.

            Hermione woke up later, in darkness and pain. She smelled stone, dirt, mildew, and blood. The scents were all mingling, and smelled disgusting, making Hermione ill to her stomach. Not that she could be. They must have been there for several hours, at least, because she felt as though she was starved, she was so empty. She could hardly move from the bruises and fatigue.

            "Help," she whispered, somewhat to herself, and somewhat to anyone who could also be in the same room. No one answered. It wasn't the most pleasant thing, but Hermione resolved that she should probably feel around the room, or wherever she was, for a door, or perhaps something to eat or drink. Getting up made her feel dizzy, but she forced herself to do so anyway. The walls were made of stone, and some of them were moss-covered. There were some rusted shackles, and a brick was on the floor in the corner.

            That was it, until…she stepped on something warm, and shouted in shock.

            "What?! Aaaaaah, bloody hell!"

            "Ron?"

            "'Mione?"

            "You're here! Why didn't you answer me?"

            "Answer you? Well, if I'm not mistaken, and I very well could be, I think I was asleep. And you just had to wake me up and make me hit my head again! It already hurts."

            "That's all you can think about? Your stupid head? At a time like this!" she lectured him, exasperatedly.

            "I'm sorry, alright? I happen to be in a lot of pain at the moment."

            "Well, where are you?"

"Right here."

She stumbled over to her left a bit, and then to her right, to where he was sitting. She gave him a hug, and sitting down beside him, looked for the bump on his head. She felt his hair, and there was a bandage already about his head. She felt around the bandage, until she came to a warm spot, between his forehead and ear. She looked at her hand. She could hardly see it, but there was a dark red spot where she had put her hand.

"Oh Ron, your head. It's bleeding."

"It is?" He happened to find where her hand was, and put his hand there, too. "You're right," he said dejectedly, and paused to think. "What a betraying piece of filth! That -" Ron let out a string of swear words so colorful, Hermione felt her cheeks go red and her jaw drop.

"Ron! I have never-" But she was interrupted suddenly, as Draco Malfoy, and some kind of servant showed up in the room.

"And how did you get here?" Hermione asked, torn between confusion and anger.

"It was a Portkey, mudblood," Malfoy said, smirking in his former villainous way, with that familiar, old drawl. "I thought that you of all people would have known that."

At this remark, Ron stepped forward angrily, swaying a bit from the wound in his head. "Don't you ever talk to my 'Mione like that again. You're a damn traitor, and for all we care, you can go to hell."

Malfoy snickered obviously, and smirked again. "What did I say, Weasley? That she was an idiot mudblood? I'm only stating facts."

Ron turned an angry, red hue, and attacked Malfoy, punching him in the face. Malfoy tried to hit him back, but Ron went at him again. Soon it was an all-out fistfight; they were slamming into walls, hitting each other violently and ferociously. Then, after the tiniest bit of hesitation, Malfoy stepped back and stopped fighting with Ron. He pulled out his wand, and pointed it steadily at Hermione. "Stop," he said solemnly to Ron. "Or I'll do it, you know I will."

Although this sounded more like Draco than he was acting lately, being a traitor and all, Hermione shuddered with fear, under the tip of Malfoy's wand. She watched the wand earnestly, hoping he would go. Ron shot dagger eyes at Malfoy, and stood in front of the wand, blocking Hermione from him. He didn't even bother to say anything.

Malfoy sighed with relief, and left. The servant left with him also, but had set a tray of food on the dank floor of the cell. The room was dark once again. Ron staggered to the floor, and fell. He swore under his breath, coughing up a bit of blood, but stopped when he saw Hermione looking at him. Hermione wanted to see what more damage had been done during that fight. She once again settled herself near him, and looked at his face.

Ron's eye was swelling, his nose was bleeding, and a nasty bruise was becoming evident on his leg. She couldn't tell what was from earlier in the day, or what was from the fight. She took out a clean, white handkerchief, and wiped Ron's mouth of the blood he had coughed up. Then she dipped it the glass of water on the food tray, and mopped his face up of all the dirt, blood, and grime.

"Oh, Ron," she sighed worriedly, "why do you have to have such a horrible temper?" She ran a clean hand through his red hair, and brought over the food.

"Don't eat that food, Mione. It could be poisoned."

"Alright, if you insist." She didn't touch the food, though she was about to faint from hunger.

"This is all my fault. I didn't stop when my instinct told me to, and I didn't keep an eye on his necklace like I should have done. I can't believe how idiotic I was. To think a Malfoy could actually be good. I can't believe this. We're going to die." He vented with very frustrated gestures, his eyes were narrowed, and his hands clenched.

"No we aren't, Ron. And you know perfectly well that this is just as much my fault as it is yours. I thought we were friends, too. Something isn't right about that. And…I was wondering about something. Thank you so much for blocking that terrible Cruciatus curse for me. Erm, I wanted to know, were you only stuttering, or…or did you say, my… 'Mione, when you got mad at Malfoy?"

"'Mione, I would always do that for you. There's no reason to thank me. But, I was trying to figure out the answer to your later question myself. Ask me again sometime, alright?" He smiled wanly at her.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"What was it like? I mean, what did it feel like?"

"What?"

"The curse."

"I know. I just don't know how to…to describe it in words." He took a moment to think about it, and said, "I couldn't feel it. I mean, I knew the pain and everything, but I felt sort of numb. If I was really feeling it, I think it could be described as kind of being burned badly. But also as if a thousand knives are stabbing you to the heart. But I didn't really feel it, that's the thing. It was like my mind couldn't understand it. Determination or something, if you take my meaning."

Hermione just stared at Ron's face. It was blackened in the shadows, but his eyes were as luminous, as bright and amazing as they always were.

"We have to get out of here," she said. "Now. We need to get out now. Harry needs to be here. It's about to happen, Ron. It will happen, very soon. I don't know, but I can feel it. Like when it's about to rain. This is the calm before the storm. Hang in there, Ron. We can make it."

"I thought fourth year was hard," he said, before falling asleep in Hermione's lap. Hermione looked down on him with respect. She rarely ever thought of him to be worthy of respect. I'm so exhausted. This is all so hard. I think Ron will last longer than I will, but I know it will happen. We will get out of here. It will happen. Oh, I hope so. It's all too dark here, but not the room, the life. We need to find a way out of this place, this time. She ran her hand silently through Ron's bright red hair.

She took  his hand and closed her eyes. It seemed almost instantly, though it couldn't have been, for Hermione had been asleep. She woke up to light spreading through the cell. It was Malfoy again, but by himself this time. In his hands, he held their cloaks, and their wands.

~Evyfleur